Whatever Happened to Nikolai?
by clayvessel14
Summary: Nikolai Lantsov, now the king of Ravka, is bored. More than that, he is lonely. His family dead and Alina with another man, he decides he needs to become Sturmhond again in hopes of rekindling his inner fire. So, in the dead of winter he sets out on his newest vessel, the Penguin, in search of adventure. Because, after all, anything worth doing always starts out as a terrible idea.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers! So for those of you who are new to my writing, thank you for choosing to read this. This is my first fanfiction for the Grisha Trilogy. Read, review, and enjoy!**

"This heat is insufferable!" complained Nikolai.

"Then move away from the fire," suggested Tolya.

"Good man! Always thinking on your feet."

The big Shu man only grunted in response. Nikolai was used to his quiet demeanor. Tolya might not say much, but he was as deadly as they come on a battlefield. They sat in a small parlor with the fireplace as their only light. It was late winter and Nikolai was getting extremely antsy after not being able to sail during the snow filled months.

 _I can't stand sitting still,_ he thought.

Although he had had plenty of time to work on his newest design: the _Penguin_. It was going to be his best ship yet; built only for speed. It was small and would slide through the air like a hot knife in butter.

 _Well that's fantastic, now I'm hungry,_ he thought irritably. It seemed that he was irritated a lot lately. He didn't feel much else. _I haven't been myself since…_

Since Alina left.

 _Perhaps I am living up to my nickname: puppy. A lovesick one at that._

"I'm going down for supper. Tamar should be here soon. You should think about eating something." Tolya seemed uncomfortable with showing his concern. It didn't come naturally for him to worry about people, and he certainly wasn't the type to mother. _Or father for that matter,_ he thought, a little disappointedly. He was a warrior, not a family man. He would most likely carry out his days serving his _tsar_ and die without having passed on his name. _The King's foul mood is wearing off on me,_ he thought with a scowl.

"I'm not hungry," Nikolai lied. "Bring me some _kvas_ when you come back up, if you would."

"Yes _moi tsar_."

Truth be told, Nikolai actually wasn't that fond of the drink. But brandy had been in short supply over the winter. And besides, it made the waiting easier. He couldn't wait to get out on one of his ships, preferably the P _enguin,_ if it was completed in time.

 _That's what I'll do!_ he thought. _Check on David's progress._

Nikolai made his way down to the shipbuilding yard, which was enclosed during the cold winter months. He whistled as he walked, but his heart wasn't in it. The curved metal roof of the arena-like facility rose high above him and the shipyard bustled with activity, even at this hour. In the far left corner, he could see the _Penguin_. He felt a thrill of excitement when he saw how close to completion it was. That was the closest thing to happiness that he'd felt in a long time. As he neared, he cast about for David. The Fabrikator loved his work and was extremely dedicated to it, so where was he?

 _He loves his work, but not as much as…_

Sure enough, there was Genya, her arms around David's neck, giggling away. Even with her scars, she was by far the prettiest girl Nikolai had ever seen. _And I can't exactly discriminate against the scars,_ he thought, glancing down at his hands, but then remembering they were gloved. If she weren't with David, Nikolai would've had to have her. Today her hair was made up of strawberry blonde curls. She just couldn't leave her hair alone.

"David! Fantastic work!" Nikolai called, startling the couple out of their wits, "I just love what you've done with the hands around her waist thing! Pure genius!"

"My apologies sir," David floundered, his face bright red. "I was just—"

" _We're engaged!"_ Genya exclaimed.

Nikolai raised his eyebrows. "Can't say I saw that one coming." He paused, then, "Actually yes, I kind of did."

Genya gave another giggle. "Can you believe it? Oh, I'm so happy!" She gave an odd little girly jump that Nikolai struggled to understand the point of and planted a kiss right on David's mouth. If they were a normal couple, this would be somewhat spontaneous, but she did this quite often and it was no longer shocking. Even David seemed somewhat subdued. But perhaps it was the hour…

" _Moi tsar,_ if it's alright with you, we were going to retire for the night. Unless you wanted me to show you the additions I made, then—"

"No, no David, it's fine. I didn't realize how late it was. Go get some rest."

"Thank you _moi tsar."_

Nikolai bristled at his father's title. "Oh and David, one more thing: when will she be ready to fly?"

"The _Penguin_ should be ready by the end of the week. Although I wouldn't recommend sailing until the weather—"

"Thank you David, I'll worry about the weather."

"You know, there's something unsettling about building a flying machine called the _Penguin._ " David said. Nikolai grinned.

"Oh, surely even you can appreciate the glorious irony."

"I'm just saying, you're asking for trouble."

Without another word, Genya and David left, hand in hand. The shipyard grew quiet as the workers left for the night. The enormous domed lights overhead snapped off, leaving Nikolai in the dark. He found he didn't mind it too much.

"No David, I'm not asking for trouble," he whispered to no one, "I'm begging for it."


	2. Chapter 2

Nikolai spent the remainder of the week down at the shipyard helping David. Together they turned the _Penguin_ into a force to be reckoned with. The craft was about thirty feet long with a shallow hull that eliminated a 'below deck' portion of the ship. Everything about it was sleek and streamlined, and the polished wood gleamed with David's special wax which would allow the ship to speed effortlessly through the air. The _Penguin_ could not by any means carry cargo, but it was small and fast; perfect for dangerous rendezvous.

"Well David, I'd say we've outdone ourselves," commented Nikolai as he admired their creation.

"It is rather impressive."

" _Rather_ impressive?" Nikolai challenged, "This ship is the brandy to a barrel full of _kvas_ , the _kefta_ to a closet of coarse wool, the Aphrodite to all the women in Ravka, the-"

"The penguin to a multitude of birds that are actually capable of flight?" David commented drily.

Nikolai was delighted with this analogy. "Exactly!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

David looked exceptionally bored for a moment, then saw the mad sparkle in Nikolai's eye. "Please tell me you aren't seriously considering flying this thing before winter is over."

"I'm not."

David sighed in relief.

"I finished considering about thirty seconds ago. I'll set sail in the morning."

David opened his mouth, aghast. "If you encounter a storm, it would become impossible to pilot!"

Nikolai held up a finger. "Not impossible. Improbable."

"You would die! And worse, it would be my fault. I would have killed the King of Ravka."

"Then it's a good thing the King of Ravka will not be on board."

David was completely lost now. He stated so.

"The King will be safely tucked away in his cozy little palace," Nikolai said, and grinned, "My good friend Sturmhond will be at the wheel."

"Fancy a vacation Tolya?" Nikolai asked later. Tolya sat with him at the head table in the dining hall. All around, advisors and Grisha ate their dinner, completely oblivious to what the two men were discussing. The smell of warm stew and _kvas_ filled the air. Zoya, Tamar, David, and Genya all sat at the head table as well.

"Where are we going?" Tolya asked, getting straight to the point.

"I'd like to pay someone a visit…"

Tolya's small, golden eyes widened. "Alin—"

Just then a young Grisha approached the table.

"Yes Tolya!" Nikolai said enthusiastically, "I agree! Alinall it was a success! I have never been more pleased with my wardrobe!" He turned to the Grisha, a young girl with limp brown hair. She wore the red _kefta_ of a Corperalnik. She bowed deeply.

"Your Highness."

"Well hello there! What's your name?" He struggled to put on a smile.

"Leeya. I just wanted to thank you for everything you've given to the Grisha. You're a great king."

With that she scampered away. Nikolai stared down at his half-empty plate, suddenly devoid of hunger. A memory circulated in his mind. A memory of her.

 _"You'll still make a great king."_

 _"Of course I will. I'm melancholy, not daft."_

Nikolai stood abruptly. "Get me a crew Tolya. We leave at dawn."

"But sir—"

"Do as I say Tolya, or so help me I will leave now on my own!" Nikolai snapped.

Anger flared in Tolya's eyes, and beside him, Tamar stiffened. "Yes—sir," he ground out.

Nikolai left the room in a huff, variations of the same words replaying in his mind over and over again while he walked to his bedchamber.

I'm melancholy, not daft. Melancholy, not daft. Daft, not melancholy.

Melancholy and completely daft.

He rushed to the wash basin in his darkened room. He never opened the curtains anymore. What was there to see? A colourless landscape that brought only misery? The fireplace and few candles in the room provided only a bit of light, just enough to see by.

Nikolai splashed icy water over his face. He slowly rose his head to look at the mirror above the basin. The same face that had always been there stared back at him, dripping water off his nose and eyelashes. Same hazel eyes, same short, dark gold hair.

 _Then why don't I feel like the same person on the inside?_

Slowly he crossed to his closet. In the very back was a flamboyant teal coat. He removed his shirt and replaced it with a white buccaneer shirt. Then he donned the coat. In a hat box on the closet floor was a ridiculous pirate's hat with a feather sticking out from it. He put that on too. Then he crossed back to the mirror and grinned.

"Hello again, you dashing rapscallion you. Ready to set sail?"

The privateer in the mirror winked.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where's my breakfast?" Zoya demanded, one hand on her perfectly curved hip.

Nikolai had no idea what she was talking about. He'd gotten up at dawn this morning and headed down to the shipyard with what little he was bringing with him. He found his crew already waiting. He had no doubt they had been stationed there all night so that Tolya could ensure he wouldn't make good on his threat to leave alone.

"Pardon me?" Nikolai asked with the utmost patience.

"I was promised the finest breakfast in Ravka before we left."

Nikolai questioned Tolya with his eyes and he shrugged. He could already guess what the explanation was. Zoya would do almost nothing without some incentive. Which also meant his best Squaller would not be tagging along unless he did something about the little breakfast situation. Looking around, he saw that Tamar was eating a puffed pastry.

"There's your breakfast!" Nikolai exclaimed. "Tamar has it!"

Tamar narrowed her eyes. "I do?" she asked dangerously.

He tried to look apologetic. "You do."

With a huff she surrendered the pastry to Zoya, who happily snatched it up. Nikolai took this chance to survey the rest of the crew. Tolya, Tamar, David, Genya, Zoya and…

 _Harshaw?_

It couldn't be. _Harshaw is dead,_ Nikolai thought. But nonetheless, there was Harshaw, in the flesh, standing just behind everyone else staring at the floor.

And on his shoulder was none other than Oncat.

"H-Harshaw?" Nikolai stammered.

The red head looked up. "Don't we all wish…" he said sadly.

Tolya stepped in front of Nikolai, who was completely stunned, although expertly hiding it. He had seen a man brought back from the dead. He was not taking it well.

"That's not Harshaw," Tolya said lowly, as if that explained everything.

"I would hope not, otherwise we have a zombie problem on our hands."

"It's his twin."

Even Nikolai didn't see that one coming. He only rose his eyebrows slightly to show his surprise. "Harshaw has an identical twin. Had. Wait, is it had or has because Harshaw is no longer with us, may he rest in peace, but his twin apparently is very much alive. Wait—why is he here?"

"He is Grisha. He came after he heard word of Harshaw's death."

"Ah. But the Fold is gone, what do we need an Inferni for?"

"That's their only difference. He's a Tidemaker."

Nikolai glanced again at the man. He looked exactly like Harshaw. Same tall, lanky build and bright red hair. Except…except his eyes were a bright, clear cerulean.

"What's your name sailor?" Nikolai asked, striding over and parting the small crowd.

"Adrian," he replied emotionlessly.

"My compatriot tells me you're a Tidemaker, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"And you wish to be a member of my crew?" he cupped a hand around his mouth as though being secretive, "Sturmhond's crew?"

"Yes sir."

 _The guy doesn't say much…_

"Very well then Adrian, welcome aboard the _Penguin_ ," he turned to get on the ship then called back, "I see Oncat has taken a liking to you."

Adrian sneezed in response.

Once they were all on board, Nikolai whispered to Tolya in passing, "It seems they have one more difference."

"Hm?"

"Our friend Adrian has a cat allergy."

Tolya continued on and Nikolai could hear him chuckling for some time. Once they got all the rigging in order, the order was given.

"Open the roof! Zoya, give us a gust!"

"Aye aye _Capitain!_ " she shouted sarcastically, but did as she was told, having no idea how they were going to get going from a standstill on _solid ground_. Above them, the enormous domed roof split down the middle and began to open.

"This isn't going to work!" she yelled over the sound of the wind filling the sail.

Nikolai came to stand directly behind her and grabbed a rope that was snapping about wildly, hanging off it lazily.

"Have you no faith in me darling?" he cooed in her ear.

"None," she spat.

"Come now, after all you've seen me capable of?"

"After all you've seen _me_ capable of I'd think you'd find someone else to satisfy your obvious need to flirt. I'm no ray of sunshine, which if I'm right, is exactly what you pine so pitifully for."

That stung. Inside, he recoiled, knowing exactly what she was getting at and that she was right. But he simply whispered,

"Maybe I need a little darkness."

He was satisfied to see surprise register on her face, and she turned her head to see him. His chin was at eye level for her. Her facial expression changed to one of flirtatious amusement.

"Really? Well if I would've known you were into that sort of thing, maybe I would have saved the Darkling for you."

Nikolai grinned. She was playing along. She was filling the void.

"He did have amazing cheekbones. And the hair, that was to die for."

"No," Zoya said thoughtfully, "I'm more into blondes I think."

"Hmm, too bad the tracker's taken."

She faced forward again, concentrating her efforts. "Yes, too bad."

That was it. The moment was over. The void resumed eating away at him. Meanwhile, David adjusted the sail so it was directly over Zoya's head. To everyone's awed amazement, the ship began lifting directly upwards. They were airborne. A few minutes later, they were flying swiftly through the freezing winter air. It was a clear day, but still bitterly cold. Luckily the crew was outfitted in furs to brave the weather. Their speed also created a brutal wind. Although Zoya only had to summon the barest breeze to keep the feather light craft going.

"Now would you mind telling me where we're going?" Zoya asked at her normal volume. Everyone except Tolya looked at Sturmhond expectantly. He debated whether to tell them all. Finally he spoke.

"Set course for _Keramzin_."


	4. Chapter 4

The flight to _Keramzin_ took only an hour and they found a stretch of river to land in. Zoya was barely out of breath when they arrived. The small, dirty market town was bustling with activity, as it was still fairly early in the day and the shop owners had plenty of goods to sell. Nikolai had wanted to visit Alina by himself, but Zoya wanted to see if the tracker had let himself go and Genya and Tamar wanted to catch up with Alina as well. So, with his caravan of women, and the rest of the men perusing the market or guarding the ship, Nikolai set off for the orphanage.

Alina and Mal had done a fantastic job of renovating the old country estate. Fresh paint, windows glowing with the warmth of fires, and the muffled sound of children's laughter brought a sense of joy. A thin coating of snow adorned the front lawn and the sun sparkled off it. It was truly a wonderful place, but Nikolai was filled with a growing sense of dread.

 _Am I making a mistake?_

They obviously had the perfect life here. Who was he to disturb it?

 _I'm not disturbing anything. I've visited before. It's just…been a while._

Four months to be exact. He was anxious to see what had changed and pushed down any feelings that suggested otherwise. They approached the ornate front door and Genya excitedly pounded the door with the knocker.

A little boy who looked to be four or five years old opened it.

"Welcome to _Keramzin._ My name is Bobby, how can I help you?" he said, sounding very rehearsed. Genya _awwed_ , Zoya snorted in disgust, and Tamar gave a small smile.

"Hello Bobby, would you please tell the master and mistress of the house that the King of Ravka has come calling?"

The boy's already large eyes widened and he stood frozen for a moment before running off at a speed that rivalled the _Penguini._ Moments later, Alina and Mal made their appearance.

Nikolai barely managed to hold in a gasp. Alina wore her hair down and it was still as white as snow. That was still the same. However, she did not look sickly or pale as she often had before. She practically glowed with happiness and she had never looked healthier. But none of these things were what left him in a cold sweat.

Her robe did not do much to conceal the horrifically perfect bump situated on her midsection.

"Nikolai!" she exclaimed, and ran to hug him. He stepped away slightly to avoid brushing her stomach. He could not enjoy her touch, her closeness, not with—with _that_ reminding him of what he had just lost.

When she pulled away, he put on the most strained smile of his life. "Congratulations," he said, gesturing to her stomach.

She gave a wry smile back. "Oh, spare me. You have no idea what's it's like to put on your boots like this."

"No I can't say I do," he replied pleasantly, "Although I'd imagine the help here is good." He transitioned to Mal and they clapped each other on the back, Nikolai resisting the urge to hit him just a bit harder.

"So that's where the feathery hat I was promised ended up," Mal joked. He appeared to be growing a beard, which made him look older, but other than that Zoya should have been pleased that he did not, in fact, let himself go.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Nikolai removed his hat.

"Genya?" exclaimed Alina, just now seeing her friend. They exchanged congratulations, Genya on her engagement and Alina on her pregnancy. Then Tamar joined in and even Zoya allowed herself to smile and hug Alina.

"You wanna go out back?" Mal suggested to Nikolai, obviously tiring of the ladies' celebrations.

He really didn't want to. He didn't want to be anywhere near the father of Alina's child.

"Yes, I do think I'm more suited to your company."

The two men exited back out the front door and walked around to the back, where they stationed themselves against the wall of the manor. The treeline was maybe a hundred feet away and Nikolai could see various structures scattered around the lawn for the children to play on during the summer. It was a paradise.

"So, what brings you here?" Mal asked, still friendly, but Nikolai could hear the underlying suspicion.

Nikolai squinted up at the clear, blue sky. "I recently finished the construction of my latest aircraft and wanted to try it out. It's quite splendid, I assure you."

"Why come here? In the dead of winter," Mal probed, the suspicion emerging.

"I haven't visited in a while. Thought I'd see how things were going. Now tell me what you've been up to and I'll question your motives."

Mal's eyes narrowed. "Okay Sturmhond—"

"That's Your Highness to you."

"Not dressed like that you're not. Now that we've got everything out in the open, tell me why you really came here. You could have gone anywhere in Ravka."

"That's true."

Mal stepped in front of him, an intimidation tactic, Nikolai figured, but it wasn't very effective considering Mal was only an inch or two taller.

"Stop skirting around it Sturmhond."

Nikolai smiled sheepishly, although feeling no remorse. "Once a privateer always a privateer."

"No, once a coward always a coward. A real man would come out and say it."

Something inside him snapped. All those lonely months of sitting in front of the fire had got to him. Sturmhond had been dormant, Sturmhond did not need anybody or anything. But Nikolai was empty. He was performing his role, quite well he thought, but nobody was there to tell him when he wasn't. That was supposed to have been her job.

What made Oretsev any more deserving of her? Anger filled him to the brim and he pinned Mal against the wall of the house so fast the stronger man couldn't even respond.

"You're wrong," Nikolai hissed, "A real man would have stayed dead like he was supposed to."

Shock registered on Mal's face. After struggling for words, finally he asked,

"What has happened to you Nikolai?"

"Aside from being turned into a man-eating monster, having an entire kingdom suddenly thrust upon me, and losing the only woman who ever saw me for who I really am: nothing."

Mal was silent for a moment. He appeared to be in deep thought, which infuriated Nikolai. He was a good fighter but Mal was that and stronger; he was not intimidated by Nikolai's aggression.

"So you came here to try and win over Alina?"

He didn't respond, just glared angrily. Mal sighed.

"I'm not your enemy Nikolai. Obviously you're hurting, and I'm sorry that I'm mostly at fault for that. But Alina is my wife and I love her. I'm not about to let her go, so you might as well stop this madness."

This got through to him, and he released Mal. He was instantly sorry for what he'd done. _What kind of king am I? Attacking people's husbands out of jealousy? This is not me._

And suddenly he knew who he was again.

"I think," Mal said, "You need some time to heal. And I don't think here is the best place for that."

"Are you asking me to leave?" Nikolai asked, allowing himself to sound weak.

Mal nodded. "I am."

"Very well," Nikolai conceded.

"Go find yourself again Sturmhond. And allow your wounds to heal," Mal said gently, in a tone he only ever used with Alina or the children.

Nikolai smiled. "That was what coming here was about. Although I think we both realize that it was quite inappropriate for me to expect your lovely wife to do so."

Mal nodded, but cringed at Nikolai's description of Alina.

"My wounds will no doubt fade to scars in time. And while there will always be a place in my heart for Alina, hopefully I can make room for someone else."

"I think that would be good for you."

"Although coming here has fulfilled the first part of my mission. I remember exactly who I am."

Mal smiled back. "And who is that?"

"Nikolai Lantsov, ruler of the Ravkan throne, Sturmhond, the best privateer in these lands or beyond, and the most dashing rapscallion any woman could dream of."

"Assuming they dream of rapscallions."

"I assure you, they do."

Mal extended his hand. "Then good luck on your journey, wherever you end up going, and may you find many rapscallion loving ladies."

Nikolai shook his hand. "I thank you. And may you have the stomach to change many diapers."

"I already do."

"Good man."

With that, Nikolai strode away. He went back into the house to pick up his crew and say good-bye to Alina.

"Let me know if you ever need anything," he said.

"Oh believe me, I will," she replied, a child in each arm.

He studied her. It seemed strange that stubborn, pessimistic Alina was caring for this many children and would soon be mothering her own.

"You never really struck me as the motherly type," he marvelled.

"I didn't think I was. But I see myself in these kids. They need someone to take care of them."

"And you're the perfect one for the job. But, like I said, if you're lacking in any way, just let me know. Anything you need, anything at all, is yours."

"Thank you."

"Good-bye Alina." He let the crew go out before him and then exited also.

"Wait Nikolai!"

He turned.

"Actually, there is something…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey readers, if you haven't checked out the Grishaverse website, it's amazing! Find out what type of Grisha you are, see an interactive map of Ravka, or even set the awesome Darkling wallpaper as your desktop! Definitely worth checking out.**

"What is it?" Nikolai asked eagerly.

"There's this girl…" Alina started, but then trailed off.

Nikolai was confused. He had expected her to say they needed extra funds or food or clothing. What on earth could she want his help with that involved some girl? He was as good with children as he was with adults so perhaps the girl was misbehaving.

"It's difficult to explain," she concluded.

"What's wrong with her?" Maybe if he could ask the right questions that would help. Mal walked in then, but didn't say anything.

"She—we don't know," Alina said frustratedly.

"Is this about Paige?" Mal asked.

"Yes. Maybe you'd better explain Mal."

He ran a hand through his hair and seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

"Paige came here with an injured fox one day," he began, "She said she didn't know what was wrong with it but wondered if we could help. We tried, but within minutes, it died. We asked her a few questions and found out she was an orphan. We figured the fox had been a convenient excuse for her to come here. She's very stubborn and prideful. She's been here ever since. She helps with the cooking and cleaning, but the rest of the time she's in her room at the farthest end of the house. Nobody else sleeps down there. She doesn't talk to anybody and if she does, she's usually quite rude."

"And you want me to help how?" Nikolai questioned. He raised an eyebrow.

Mal turned to Alina, inviting her to speak. "Would you consider taking her with you?"

Nikolai gave a barked laugh. "Do you remember how I got my name Alina? I don't think my ship is any place for a little girl."

Suddenly there was a woman in the doorway behind Alina.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a little girl," she said, then turned to Mal, "And I told you, it's Vitsa."

"Pai—Vitsa! I didn't see you there!" exclaimed Alina.

"That was the idea," she said dangerously.

Nikolai's head spun. She certainly wasn't a little girl. She was taller than Alina and looked to be the same age, maybe a bit younger. She had a mane of wavy honey blonde hair that made its way down to her hips. Long bangs hung in her face. A brown wool dress completed the disheveled look. But the proud tilt of her head made her look like royalty and the cold fire in her blue-green eyes made him want to turn and run the other way. She was terrifying.

She was perfect.

"Vitsa, this is King Nikolai," Alina introduced, "Nikolai, this is Vitsa, otherwise known as Paige."

Rather than showing the usual awe that his subjects did once he revealed his identity, she cocked her head to the side and considered him. Her bangs shifted to completely cover one side of her face. Nikolai bowed deeply.

"It's a pleasure Miss Vitsa."

"Save it. And it's just Vitsa," she said, although there was no emotion in her voice. He liked how strong her voice was, even at a low volume.

 _Vitsa…lioness._

"Suit yourself Just Vitsa," he said, shrugging.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "And I suppose you expect me to curtsy and refer to you as Your Highness," she said as though it were the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"No I don't expect anything. Sometimes I get even less than that. Spitting, cursing, the like. Although I would ask that you refrain from spitting, I'm quite fond of this coat."

"It's ridiculous."

"I know!" he said gleefully.

"You're a disappointment to the country. I wouldn't be surprised if the Shu have taken over by next month."

Alina gasped. "Vitsa!"

"Hm, see _that_ was the wrong thing to say," Nikolai mused, then lunged at her. To his surprise, she dodged easily and landed a clean blow to his jaw. He recoiled, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. Then he attacked again, this time faking a punch and plowing into her when she was distracted. She fell to the floor with a thud and he quickly pulled out his sword. He pointed it at her neck.

"You should know, I may be the King of Ravka, but I'm also the captain of the most ruthless fleet of ships known to man. Mercy is not something I dole out freely."

"Good," she hissed, "Because I never asked for it."

Suddenly she lashed out with a thrusting kick that drove her heel into his thigh muscle, causing his leg to give out. She was up in a flash, and while he clutched his leg trying to recover, she slammed her elbow down onto a particularly painful spot between his neck and shoulder. He grunted in pain and fell onto his backside. The last thing he remembered was her fist coming at his head.


	6. Chapter 6

"Nikolai? Nikolai!"

Alina's voice pierced his veil of sleep. Nikolai opened his eyes to see Alina seated on the edge of his bed, her stomach at eye level. That was going to be something to get used to.

"What happened?" he questioned, struggling to remember why he was incapacitated.

"I'm so sorry. Paige—Vitsa can be very hot-headed sometimes, but I've never seen her react like that before."

Ah, yes. The lioness. He felt a swell of admiration: few could best him in combat. He remembered her wild mane of golden hair and the intensity in her eyes.

He also remembered her comment.

His anger must have showed on his face because Alina continued to apologize for the girl. "Please Nikolai, try to understand, she has a lot of pain in her past. Although we don't exactly know what that is," she muttered. "Regardless, she can't stay here. She scares the children and frankly she's too old to be at an orphanage. I'm shocked she's stayed this long."

"So after she insulted me and I had my royal rump handed to me—"

"Yes. I'm still asking you to take her with you," she confirmed, stubborn fire in her eyes.

Nikolai hoisted himself into a sitting position. He glanced around the room. It was a child's room, with a pair of bunk beds on opposite walls. Toys were scattered on the rug and afternoon sunlight streamed in the window on the wall his bed was against. He hadn't been out for long then. The orphanage must have been full to bursting if there were no guest rooms for him to be lodged in. No wonder they couldn't keep a full grown woman.

"So you're asking me," he began and she listened closely, "to take this wild, unpredictable charge of yours with me wherever I'm going, where she would serve only as a constant liability."

"She can cook," Alina said defensively, "and clean. And I would think she's already more than proved herself as a capable fighter."

"Yes but you see, in the event of an emergency I would protect her at all costs because I am a gentleman, thus putting my own life at risk."

She frowned. "Look, Nikolai, I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't think you could handle it. Please take her with you."

He looked at her, just because he could and because Mal wasn't there. Her white hair stark against her glowing skin, her eyes serious but bright. She would never not be thinking of Mal. He knew that now. He would leave, and he would not come back.

"Fine. But I'm doing it for you."

She grinned. "That's what I was counting on."

"I don't want to go with him," declared Vitsa, suddenly in the doorway. She leaned against the doorframe, stealthy like a cat, and Nikolai thought she lived up to her name. Alina struggled to turn to see her.

"Vitsa, how much did you hear?"

"Enough. I'll go pack. But I'm not going with _him_ ," she snarled. Nikolai felt as though a finger had been jabbed towards him. He didn't appreciate it much. He looked down, found that his coat was still intact, and stood.

"You don't really have a choice in the matter," he said calmly.

"You have no idea how wrong you are. I always have a choice, because I know how to gut anyone that says otherwise." She eyed him carefully and he could almost see her planning her first move. He just sighed and took a step towards her. He knew what he was looking for. Alina watched cautiously.

Another step.

There it was. Her hand twitched ever so slightly, as if aching for the reassuring touch of steel.

One more step.

Her hand had scarcely left her side before he caught her attention. A quiet _click_ resounded, powerful for such a small noise. Vitsa froze, hand on the handle of a knife hidden in her sleeve. Alina also went rigid.

"Nikolai..." she warned.

"Alina I might be a gentleman, but I am two other things as well."

"Just two?" she asked drily, but there was tension in her voice.

He turned his attention to Vitsa when he spoke. "I am a gentleman, but I am also a liar and a cutthroat. You, young lady, just met the third."

She stared down the barrel of his pistol, raging hatred emanating from her.

"I have a theory Miss Vitsa," he said, receiving only her glare. "I think your bark is worse than your bite. Or in this case, your roar. So come along my little kitten, we have a ship to board."

"I-hate-you," she spat.

"Good," he responded nonchalantly, "that will keep you alive. Rage is a very good motivator."

….

It didn't take her long to pack; she didn't have many things and Nikolai had said to pack light. Her turquoise eyes widened a little when she saw the _Penguin_ , but she hid her surprise quickly. The crew all eyed her but knew better than to ask. If their captain wanted to explain, he would. And if he didn't, well nothing could pry the words from him.

As it were, he felt like explaining.

"Everyone, this is Vitsa, the newest member of our crew. In the event of an emergency, she does not need to be protected. She is allowed to do whatever she pleases and should not be told otherwise."

She raised her eyebrows at this, but other than that did not react to his introduction. Nikolai ordered everyone to their places and with less effort than before, they lifted off. Vitsa appeared to be extremely scared of heights. Her face turned a curious shade of pale green. The wind caused her hair to whip around her face and she looked truly wild.

Nikolai called Tamar over. "Watch her like a hawk," he commanded.

Tamar raised an eyebrow.

"She's a runner. I expect that she will try to escape the first chance she gets," he explained.

"Is she a captive?" Tamar asked confusedly.

Nikolai ran a hand through his hair.

"No. I feel _charge_ would be the more appropriate word. Alina wanted me to take her with us."

Tamar snorted. "Alina could have asked us to take a hippopotamus with us and you would have agreed."

He looked at her very seriously and she immediately sobered. "Yes," he said, "I would have. As a parting gift."

"What do you mean?"

"I have no intentions of returning.'

Tamar bit her lip and then appeared to decide on speaking her mind. "You are being extremely childish about this," she declared.

Nikolai felt like he'd been slapped. One of his best crew members, speaking to him like this. It was ludicrous.

"Mind your station sailor," he said calmly.

"Or what? You'll throw me over the edge? Fine. I've sworn allegiance to you Sturmhond, but that also means looking out for your best interests. You are a heartbroken fool who needs to grow up and move on."

He looked at Tamar incredulously, stunned, and then decided she was right. But he did not say so, he just stared at the deck until her boots moved out of his sphere of vision. When he finally looked up, he saw Vitsa up in the rigging, apparently having overcome her fear of heights. Zoya was glaring up at her, no doubt wanting to tell her to get down.

"Enjoying the view?" Nikolai yelled.

"Not particularly," muttered Zoya. Nikolai shot her a glance, to which she responded with a coy smile. She _was_ beautiful, he admitted. He could be happy with her, he supposed.

Suddenly Vitsa grabbed a rope and swung down, nimble and lithe. She landed without a sound and stalked over to him at the helm. She tried to look angry, but the exhilaration that came from flying was evident on her face.

"So Sturmhond, I've met the gentleman and the cutthroat. When do I meet the liar?"

His mind immediately returned to his thoughts about Zoya. He _was_ a fool, to think he could be happy with a trophy wife. But he had almost convinced himself he would be.

He smiled grimly. "You already have."


	7. Chapter 7

"That does not look pretty," Adrian commented. In the distance, tall clouds loomed ominously. Adrian had been standing with Nikolai for the past half hour as they sailed all over Ravka, given that he didn't have anything else to do. Everyone else assumed Nikolai continued on just for the pleasure of it. Really, he had absolutely no idea where to go next or what to do about Vitsa. He was just buying time.

Adrian sneezed for the fiftieth time. "You could just shove her off your shoulder," Nikolai suggested, glancing at Oncat.

"Are you kidding? I'd never do that to Oncat!" Adrian exclaimed, sounding exactly like Harshaw. "You wouldn't push Zoya would you?" he challenged.

Nikolai smirked. "Adrian, do enlighten me as to why Zoya would ever have reason to sit on my shoulder."

He didn't even falter. "If it were me, I wouldn't really care, to be honest. She's welcome to sit on me anytime."

Nikolai snorted. _He's just like Harshaw._

"What are we going to do about those clouds, boss?" Adrian questioned, suddenly serious.

Nikolai hadn't thought of that. The clouds were much closer now, and they promised snow. Lots of it too. The wind was starting to pick up. Zoya wasn't even doing anything. The whole crew had started glancing uneasily at the approaching storm. David looked somewhat smug, but mostly nervous.

"Can't you just, you know?" Nikolai waved his hands in the air, mimicking a Tidemaker's movements. "Whoosh the snow away?"

Adrian scowled and glanced at Oncat. "You're right Oncat, I have never _whooshed_ anything in my life. But yes, I can redirect the snow."

"Good."

"I don't do air though. Those winds will knock us right out of the sky."

That wasn't a problem. Nikolai called Zoya over. She begrudgingly agreed to help with the winds. Rage was a good motivator, but so was self-preservation. She stalked off to the front of the ship to resume her post.

"Oh, and Zoya?" he called. She turned. "You look marvelous in that coat." Surprise registered on her face, but she quickly became guarded again.

"I look marvelous in everything."

That was true. She did. If only she wasn't so, what was the word?

"Narcissistic."

"Pardon _capitain_?" Adrian asked.

"Nothing."

"Listen to him Oncat, talking to himself like that," Adrian said to the little tabby, the wind starting to whip up his own orange hair, "It sounds like our captain might have some issues." He gestured to his head, indicating that Nikolai was crazy. Oncat licked herself. Adrian sneezed.

The blizzard was upon them now, faster than Nikolai had anticipated. The snow became tiny daggers in the fierce wind, and Nikolai put on his goggles. Everyone else took the hint. Zoya began redirecting the wind, and it curved around them, although it clearly took a lot of effort on her part. She not only had to move massive air currents, but also keep their ship up. Hopefully the storm didn't last long. Adrian also set to work on the snow, but he was not as practiced as Zoya and seemed to be having great difficulty. The snow began gathering on the deck. Oncat hid herself inside Adrian's jacket, causing him to sneeze even more, and lose focus. The wind wouldn't be what brought them down, it would be the sheer weight of the snow on board. Nikolai got in front of the Tidemaker.

"Adrian! What's going on?"

"I'm sorry _achoo!_ Sorry Captain Sturmhond! The cat is _achoo!_ She's making me sneeze and I can't concentrate!"

Nikolai ripped open Adrian's jacket, startling Oncat and eliciting a screeched _meow._ He grabbed her and stuffed her inside one of his bags. He would feel guilty later, right now he had bigger things to worry about. Adrian stopped sneezing almost immediately and regained a bit of control. The snow skirted around them. Tamar, Tolya, David, and Genya began bailing out snow. But where was…

"Vitsa!" Nikolai called over the roar of the wind. He spotted her near the front of the ship, curled against the wall. She cradled her face in her hands. He raced to her. She hadn't had goggles on and the icy bits of snow would have rendered her nearly blind in the storm. He crouched next to her and the noise of the blizzard dulled a bit in the shelter of the ship's side.

"Vitsa! Are you all right?"

She looked up. Her eyes were wild and her face was flushed from the wind. "No I'm not! This bloody thing is going to kill me!" She sounded breathless and completely panicked.

"Everything is going to be fine."

"Liar!" she yelled.

"Yes. But not this time. I'm the best captain in Ravka," he assured her. But it looked like she wasn't listening. She clutched her knees to her chest and let out harsh, dry sobs.

All of a sudden, to his left, Zoya gasped and collapsed on the deck. Nikolai ran to her in a heartbeat and tried to ask her what was wrong. She was obviously in a lot of pain and incapable of answering. She just gasped for air and her hands scrabbled at her chest as if she wanted to tear it open. Seconds later, her eyes rolled back into her head.

The ship lurched. The nose pointed downward and they began plummeting towards the ground.

"Tamar! Tolya! Someone wake her up!" Nikolai screamed. The wind was thrashing around them again, snow and all, as it appeared Adrian had also lost his nerve. Tamar came over and took Zoya's pulse.

"Is she alive?" Nikolai asked hurriedly.

"Yes, but just barely. Her pulse is very sporadic," Tamar yelled back.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know!"

"Well figure it out! Make her heart beat! You're a Heartrender; _do something_!"

Tamar simply nodded and began clenching her fist. She loosened and tightened it rhythmically, and Zoya's chest rose and fell with it. She soon regained consciousness.

"What the—"

"No time to explain! Get up!"

She did.

Just in time to see the ground rise up to meet them.


	8. Chapter 8

Nikolai was not knocked out by the impact of the crash, thankfully. He surveyed the damage. It was difficult to see with the snow still coming down but it appeared as though they had crashed into a snow bank in a grove of fir trees. The _Penguin_ had been shredded by the massive branches of the ancient trees. It was a wonder they were all still alive.

 _Or are we?_ Nikolai suddenly thought in alarm. He looked around again, this time looking for people. He saw a shock of reddish blonde curls sprouting out of the snow. _Genya!_ He scrambled over and began digging her out. She struggled, and between the two of them, she was soon above the snow, gasping for air.

"Thank you, Nikolai! I was starting to panic for a second there."

"Any time. But we do need to locate everyone else," Nikolai said quickly. As he was helping Genya wrench her feet out of the snow bank, she yelped suddenly.

"What's the matter?"

Her scars were twisted by pain when she looked up at him. She was leaning on him heavily and favouring her right foot. "It's my ankle. It hurts. I think it might be broken."

"Might be best to leave it on ice then," Nikolai joked.

Genya gave him a murderous glare. "Sorry. Not the time for jokes," he amended. "But really, I think you should leave it where it is to reduce any swelling. I'll look for the others. If you can, hug your legs to your chest to keep warm." With some difficulty and grimaces, she did so.

Nikolai continued his search and soon found David. He wasn't far from Genya. _Go figure_. David was already shaking the snow off his furs. "You okay?" Nikolai asked.

"F-fine," David chattered.

"Good. Start helping."

David tended to Genya first, although there really wasn't much he could do. Then he set to work hoisting Tolya out of the snow. Given the man's immense size and strength, David was redundant. Nikolai found Tamar in the wreckage of the ship. She lay on splintered wood beams and moaned softly at his approach. He kneeled next to her.

"Tamar?"

Her gold eyes flickered open, but they were glassy and dull. Her breathing was off and Nikolai's gaze was drawn to her abdomen. A shard of wood protruded from her stomach about four inches long. He didn't know how much of it was inside her. Blood had saturated her clothes and bathed the snow around her in red. Nikolai fought a flutter of panic. He ripped off a piece of his shirt beneath his coat and wrapped it tightly around the splinter. He knew it needed to come out but he wasn't going to be the one to remove it. He was no doctor.

"Hang in there Tamar, I'm going to get you some help. But you have to stay awake alright?"

Her only response was a look of fear that made his heart twist. Nikolai stood and looked at the carnage, wondering how they could possibly save her. It wasn't like they had a Healer around. Not to mention Vitsa—

 _Vitsa!_

Nikolai swore under his breath. He had promised Alina he would take care of her! She could be anywhere!

Suddenly there was a crackling noise, the sound of a branch snapping, and a grunt from above. Nikolai looked up to see Vitsa hanging haphazardly in a tree. Her arms were each held up by a branch, as were her legs. There were twigs and pine needles in her hair, which was even wilder than before.

"Need some help?"

"Don't-touch-me," she hissed.

"Who would want to?" he said sarcastically, having had just about enough of her. His comment had been meant to sting, but her reaction shocked him. She grinned.

"Exactly. Anyone that comes anywhere near me usually regrets it. So carry on."

"Yes, well, you see, while you're over here contemplating how to escape, one of my best crew members is dying. So if you know anything about first aid, that would be more helpful than playing Miss Independent. Or Tarzan. Whatever it is you're trying to accomplish."

At this she stopped smiling. He could see the gears turning in her head. To help or not to help? She had an opportunity to escape here. He couldn't imagine anyone other than the Darkling being evil enough to walk away from a person on their death bed. Then again, he didn't know Vitsa very well. She pulled herself up so she was seated on a thick branch.

"No," she shook her head firmly, "I can't offer you any help." She bit off her words and wouldn't meet his eyes. Nikolai's lips parted slightly and he brought his brows close together, looking at her in disbelief. How could she be so—

"Who is it though? I want to know," she said softly, but her voice was strong.

"Tamar."

"The Shu woman?" She looked almost concerned. Maybe she did care. Nikolai shifted his weight and cleared his throat.

"Yes."

She said nothing, just stared straight down. Nikolai turned. Let her run. He was done wasting his time with her while Tamar's life flickered to nothing. He returned to where Tamar lay. Tolya was now there, kneeling beside her silently. She was pale. Nikolai held his breath until he saw hers. She made eye contact with him and her eyes were clearer now. Slowly, she reached up to her stomach and wrapped her hands around the splinter.

"Tamar…?"

Before Nikolai knew what she was doing, she tightened her grip and yanked the piece of wood out. Like a brook, blood bubbled up out of the wound and poured down her sides.

"Tamar, no!" Nikolai screamed, and frantically tried to staunch the flow of the blood. First he used the rag, then his gloved hands. They were quickly saturated, despite the immense pressure he was applying. Tolya ripped off his coat and placed it on her as well. Suddenly, Tamar gasped. Nikolai looked up to see Vitsa standing beside him, watching. Her face was hidden by hair and she made no move to help. Tamar's eyes grew wide, and she made a gurgling noise.

"Shhhh, it's okay Tamar," Nikolai stroked her forehead, "Vitsa's not going to do anything to hurt you." He knew how ridiculous he sounded. Tamar was going to die at this rate, what did anyone care if Vitsa did do something crazy? Nikolai continued his efforts to soothe Tamar, but she wasn't listening. She seemed riveted with terror and continued to make horrible, strangled noises. Eventually Vitsa spun around and fled. Nikolai made no move to go after her, Panic began to overtake him. He was the captain! The King of Ravka! So why couldn't he save her?

There was a tap on his shoulder.

"Not now!" he spat.

"Nikolai…" It was Zoya. She sounded irritated with him, but her voice trembled. That was what made him turn.

"What?"

There was panic in her crystal blue eyes. "Look around. We're surrounded."


	9. Chapter 9

Zoya was right. All around the clearing, figures dressed in furs were emerging from the trees. They all carried spears. _Great, so they're hostile, Nikolai thought._ In his history books, he had read about a group of people native to Ravka, called the _Dikari_ , the savages. His books claimed they were cannibals, with strange rituals in which blood was consumed as a means of committing themselves to their deity. They were thought to be extinct, but here they were, right in front of his eyes. It seemed Ravka had many well-kept secrets.

"Nobody move," he commanded under his breath. At some point his whole crew had gathered behind him. Nikolai's hand went to his pistol under his coat. A large man, presumably the leader, came forward. He was probably a good foot taller than Nikolai and twice as broad. He was even bigger than Tolya, but not by much. His size didn't matter though. A bullet would go through him just the same as any other man. Nikolai was torn. He didn't know whether to be Sturmhond or the King. Sturmhond would tell the crew to fight, therefore putting their lives very much at risk. A king would protect his subjects at all costs.

The man stopped. He was about five feet away from them. Nikolai's muscles were tensed, ready for anything. His sweat ran down his face in freezing trails. The chief glanced down at Tamar, who had gone still. Nikolai hadn't noticed until now. The chief started to kneel, massive hands outstretched.

 _BANG!_

A shot split the air, and everyone jumped. Nikolai kept his hand in the air, where the gun was pointed towards the sky.

"Do not touch her. Understood?" he said menacingly. "She will have a proper burial, not be devoured by you fiends."

The man looked down at Nikolai questioningly. His eyes were squinted. Nikolai saw intelligence there and it shocked him.

" _Tsar_ Nikolai?" the man asked, his voice incredibly deep.

Nikolai held his head a little higher and rose to his full six feet.

"In the flesh." He winced at his bad word choice.

In a flash, the man was moving, and Nikolai's pistol followed his movements. Soon he had it pointed at the man's head.

Where he was kneeling in the snow with his head bowed.

" _Moi tsar,_ my deepest apologies for making you feel threatened. Please say you will forgive us."

Nikolai was both relieved and immensely confused. Were these not cannibals, whose end game was to devour them all? It looked as though there were maybe a dozen or so of the _Dikari_ surrounding them. Including himself, there were seven people on Nikolai's side. They were outnumbered, but a gun would outmatch a spear any day.

" _Tsar_ Nikolai," the man spoke again, "are you alright?"

Nikolai snapped out of it. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am Falkner, my lord, at your service. These are the men of my tribe," he replied, gesturing to his company.

"Are your intentions hostile?" Nikolai shifted slightly. The gun was still trained on the man named Falkner, but he was letting his guard down. Giving them a chance.

"No! Of course not, my lord. We heard a loud crash while we were out hunting and came to investigate. This ship," he pointed from where he was kneeling at the rubble, "Was it yours? One of your famous aircrafts?"

Nikolai was becoming more surprised by the minute. Not only was this man incredibly articulate, but his story seemed to check out. These were not the men he had read about. "Are you, or are you not, the _Dikari_ tribe?"

Falkner's face darkened. "That is the name we were given, yes. But I assure you, whatever you have been told is false. Cannibalism," he spat. "We are not barbarians! We are a simple people who choose to live our lives separate from the rest of Ravka. Foolish men have made us into these monsters and told tales of supposed horrors."

Nikolai pondered this. To trust them and stand down was a risk. To fight would result in possibly slaughtering innocent men. "I need your word that you will not harm any of my crew members. Then we will stand down and be on our way."

Falkner looked skeptically at Tamar. Her chest fluttered ever so slightly. "You need help," he stated.

"I know."

"Let us help you."

"…Fine."

…..

"How is she?" Nikolai asked. It was dark out now. Stars glittered in the sky, and a fat moon lit up the clearing. Nikolai and the rest of the crew were seated around a large fire. Several more fires were scattered around, and families huddled around them. The _Dikari_ tribe was bigger than he had expected: more than a hundred people.

"Our healer is working on her now. It… it doesn't look good." Falkner replied grimly. "Several of her organs were badly damaged. Gretta has been working to stitch the wounds closed."

Nikolai heaved a sigh and buried his head in his hands. He had failed. She was going to die and it was his fault. _Some king…_ he thought. _Some captain…_

"If anyone can fix her, it's my Gretta," Falkner said almost defensively.

Nikolai looked up with tired eyes. "That your wife?"

"Yes, your highness." Falkner still added Nikolai's title to his words once and a while, but it was clear who was in charge now. "Give her some time. We'll know more in the morning. In the meantime, I would suggest that you get some rest. A tired leader is no good to anybody. We've set up a tent for you."

Nikolai numbly followed the bigger man to a tent on the edge of the clearing, away from everyone else. He didn't object to being alone. He needed time to think. Falkner left once Nikolai went inside. There was a stack of woven blankets on the ground. He arranged them in a sort of bed and snuffed out the torch that had been inserted into the ground. He laid down. His eyes stayed open but he saw nothing. Darkness all around.

 _Tamar… I'm so sorry. This is my fault. If I wouldn't have stupidly insisted on seeing Alina, none of this would have happened. It was because I was a lovesick fool. Now I'm just a failure. I failed you, I failed Alina…_

 _Vitsa…_

He had panicked. He should have tried to keep Vitsa around. His main priority had been Tamar.

 _And look where that got me. Now I've lost both of them._

Eventually he drifted off to sleep, where nightmares awaited. Dreams of screaming people and clawed hands haunted him. The taste of blood was everywhere.

He woke to cold steel on his throat.

"Don't-move."


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow! Has it really been almost a year since I've updated? And people are still reading! Thank you guys so much!**

"Vitsa?" Nikolai breathed. He tensed, readying himself for whatever she was going to do.

And only found the knife biting into his skin. "I said _don't move_!" Vitsa said fiercely, although obviously trying to keep her voice down. "Are you daft?"

 _I'm melancholy, not daft._ "Get this knife off of my throat," he growled.

"And let you sound the alarm? I don't think so."

"May I point out that there would not be an alarm to sound if you were not at present holding sharpened steel uncomfortably close to my jugular? And, follow up question, if I may, why _are_ you threatening me?"

"Because I need you to do something for me," she responded angrily, clearly unhappy that she needed his help.

Nikolai rolled his eyes, then remembered she couldn't see him. "A word of advice: I respond better to the carrot than the stick."

"Can you not be serious for one bloody second?" she hissed. She was so close, he could feel her breath on his face.

In this moment he felt very much like some animal pinned to the ground by a snarling lion. She was fierce, unafraid, and clearly motivated by whatever it was she needed his help with. The silence stretched on, with the knife growing warm against his neck. She wasn't going to hurt him; she needed him.

"Get off me and we can negotiate. That is my only offer," Nikolai said firmly.

She hesitated, and he felt the pressure of the knife lift slightly. In a flash of movement, he grabbed her wrist with his left hand and got his feet under her stomach. Using his feet, he launched her off of him. She landed on her back, still clutching the knife. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but he had enough time to hold her down with her own hand holding the knife against her throat before she could catch her breath. She gaped like a fish, having had knocked the wind out of her.

"Don't ever pull a stunt like that again, wench. Do you understand?" He said it coolly, but rage was coursing through his veins. "Do you know what happens to people who threaten me? I let them live just long enough for me to see regret on their face, and then I kill them."

Her breath was starting to come back now, and she wheezed heavily.

"You know, I am a bit insulted that you underestimated me so greatly," he continued. "Perhaps it's because I'm your _Tsar_. Well let me tell you something else. I am a man who wears a lot of hats. Both in the metaphorical and literal sense. I like feathers, by the way. Anyway, ah no, please hold on just one moment, I'm not done…" She had started to struggle, digging her fingernails into his hands, which were held at her throat. He gently placed his thumb and forefinger into the groove where the wrist met the hand. He squeezed sharply.

"Stop!" she gasped.

"Are you going to listen?" he asked.

"Yes!"

He released the pressure, but kept his fingers on her wrist. "So as I was saying, I am the King of Ravka, but I am also a ruthless privateer. Can you guess which one comes out to play when things get a little… rocky?"

"You're crazy," Vitsa said vehemently. "This kingdom is going to fall into squalor with you in charge."

He cocked his head to the side. "And yet… it hasn't. Nor is it in the process of doing so." He decided then was a good time to stand. He wrenched the knife from her hand. She scrambled back into the flimsy wall of the tent.

Dusting his hands off, he pulled the torch from the ground beside his bed. He rummaged around in his coat for a flint, feeling Vitsa's eyes on him the whole time. After lighting it, he stabbed it back into the ground and sat on his blanket. Vitsa was to his right, poised to run or fight—he wasn't sure. He suddenly felt exhausted.

"For Saints sake, come sit down. You must be hungry. Alina would have my head if I let you starve."

The _Dikari_ had left a tray of bread and dried venison for him. It was near the entrance of the tent. He nodded his head at it. She regarded him warily.

"This is some kind of trick."

"I assure you, it's not. I can't very well kill you when Alina asked me to look out for you. But as I said, do not _ever_ threaten me like that again."

She crossed to the food and took a piece of bread. Coming to sit closer to the torch, she watched him the whole time. She sat across from him, keeping her distance. The torch crackled softly between them, but although he was tired, Nikolai still burned with anger at his insolent charge. Who did she think she was?

"So what is it that you need my help with? Did your little caper in the woods not go so well? How far did you get in the span of a few hours anyway?"

She glared at him, and the firelight made her eyes look like pools of liquid. Her hair was even messier than before, if that was possible, and it too glowed in the light. "I need to go somewhere."

"And?"

"I can't get there on foot."

"So you need a ship?" Nikolai deduced.

"Yes."

Already he was intrigued at the thought of a new adventure. He couldn't resist. The King in him recognised that it was irresponsible, but Sturmhond would not be silenced. And Alina would be happy to hear the lengths he had gone to to help Vitsa.

"Well obviously the _Penguin_ is not exactly in tip-top shape. We would have to return to Os Alta to get another one ready. We may be there for several days. Either way, I have to get Tamar to better medical care." He glowered as he imagined her lying in her tent near death. _Please make it through, Tamar._

Vitsa bit her lip unhappily. He knew she would not want to be cooped up in the palace. It was a question of how long she wanted to wait before she was free of him. Obviously she needed his help to get wherever she needed to go, otherwise she would not have come back.

"Where _are_ we going, by the way?"

Again she drilled into him with her eyes, "You'll find out."

"Yes. Right now. Tell me," he said with quiet authority. He raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her.

"I don't take orders from you."

"At the moment, yes, you do. But fine. You want to be little miss secretive, you go right ahead. I like a little mystery."

She looked taken aback at his submission. Good. Keep her guessing. Let her think she was in charge.

"So first, we get back to Os Alta, "she said slowly.

"Yes."

"How long will it take you to get a ship outfitted?"

"Three days at the least. A week at most."

"How do I know you aren't just going to lock me in a room once we get there?" She flicked her hair out of her eyes, as if only noticing it then.

"You don't." He grinned at her. "Isn't this fun? I love a good power struggle."

She curled her lip at him. "I still hate you."

"I'm aware."

Seeming satisfied with the plan, she drew up her knees and rested her arms and head on them. She finally took her eyes off his face, and he felt something fade away, like a current that had been flowing through him had stopped. Her eyes traveled around the tent, until they landed on one spot and locked. He looked down to see what she was staring at.

The scars. He had taken his gloves off to sleep. The black skin looked bruised and singed, a reminder of what _Merzost_ had turned him into. The rumor was that he had been tortured by the Darkling, which was true in a sense. But in reality, the scars were from four inch talons sprouting from his fingers tips, and veins of darkness lacing their way up his arms. He shuddered involuntarily. Vitsa looked away sharply.

He snatched his gloves up off the ground and thrust his hands into them.

Vitsa opened her mouth to speak. "What—"

"Not up for discussion."

She glared and ate her bread in silence. When she finished, she asked, "Will your friend be okay?"

"I don't know," he replied brusquely.

"I'm sorry."

"A lot of good that does."

She stood abruptly. When she looked down at him, her anger had returned. "You are no King. And you are not some great Captain. You are a lunatic who can't decide who he is from one day to the next. The sooner I get away from you, the better."

He smiled up at her. "No one's stopping you, darling. You want to run away again? See how that works out for you?"

"Ugh!" She whirled around and flung the tent flaps open. She was gone in a heartbeat.


End file.
